


And Do Everything I Imagined I Did When I Masterbated And Thought About You.

by churchonthehill



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: ? - Freeform, Anal Fingering, Crossdressing, M/M, idk ITS NOT THAT CRAZY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 11:56:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16681165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churchonthehill/pseuds/churchonthehill
Summary: Honestly? This played out way differently in my head. For context: Mac finds out Dennis is into doctor-patient roleplay, breaks his wrist on purpose to get Dennis to agree to 'tend' to it, and Dennis is dressed as a sexy nurse the entire time. Shenanigans ensue.WARNING: This fic is bad and it sucks.





	And Do Everything I Imagined I Did When I Masterbated And Thought About You.

“ So, let me get this straight..” He paces several steps, one foot overlapping the next as his 5-inch platform heels the color of egg-shells, reverberate against the wood floor. “ You purposefully dropped a hammer onto the wrist of your less-dominant hand…” Dennis blinks twice, the rubber of the medical-teal gloves stopping shy of his elbow, crinkling, as he balls his hands into tight fists. “ That’s got to be the most desperate thing I’ve ever seen...Christ, Mac, you make Charlie’s infatuation with the Waitress look like mere child’s play. I mean, has he gone this far before? Broken his bones like some sort of hooligan just to get his dick wet?” He tuts. 

“ You’re lucky; you’re in good hands.” 

Dennis steps forward and all the lights in the room seem to angle towards him, bathing him in an aureate, holier-than-thou, glow. He’s absolutely ravishing, angelic, watching his roommate's dazed expression inquisitively; Mac’s eyes appear ready to bleed from their sockets in the form of gelatinous goop, spreading down his cheeks as tears as thick as the Weeping Mary’s. 

His dress is tight and sugar pink, made from an aqueous fabric that seems to move like a wave with each of Dennis’ movements, rippling across his body. A retro off-white belt cinching his waist makes it difficult to tell if Dennis’ midriff had always been impossibly doll-like, or, if it’s the work of extensive body-contouring and corsetry. Maybe, he even got a rib or two removed, just for the Hell of it.

And yet, no matter how many times Mac scans Dennis from head-to-toe, taking him in, making sure the figure before him won’t disintegrate into a sea of locusts, an image familiarized in his nightmares, his eyes always land just center of the hollow space between Dennis’ pale thighs; the hem of his dress rides up, hardly enough to cover the peak of red resting in the thick of his legs. 

“ Close your mouth buddy, you’ll catch flies.” Dennis sneers, ever cruel. He saunters over towards Mac, dressed in nothing but a pair of raggedy sweats and a wife-beater. It’s mid-afternoon and he’s scrubbed all the useless product out of his hair so that it lays against his scalp in oil-washed strokes of black. He almost looks good enough to eat , but there are some things better left stored behind one’s skull than vocalized. This was one of many. 

“ You know, Mac...I warned you about eavesdropping on me…” Dennis pouts comically, plopping down in Mac’s lap with such force it sends tremors up either of their spines. “ You’re sort of a sicko, aren’t you…? A sad, sad, pervert, trying all too desperately to get in his best friend’s pants. Isn’t that right?” Normally Dennis would object to Mac looking anywhere but his eyes, yet as of now, he appears fascinated by the ‘v’ of Dennis’ exposing collar, the delicate-yet-pronounced structure of his clavicle, and the way his teasingly-disclosed bra seems to uplift his chest, cartoonishly. He lets him salviate.( Mac knows that Dennis is all plastic, that there are probably ridiculous amounts of silicone and polymer in his pectorals that make them appear ever-so...ample, but he’s definitely, undeniably, into it. All of it. )

“ Sure, I left my journal out on the-”

Mac is quick to cut him off. “ You mean your diary?”

Dennis’ face turns red, burning as if there’s pockets of Tabasco in his cheeks.“IT IS NOT A DIARY!” He cries, his hand raised in a half-formed claw. He’d scratch Mac, but it’d kill the mood, and what Dennis desperately needed at the moment was a semblance of sexual paradise, so he opts to forfeit. 

“ Oh, never mind! You make everything so needlessly difficult, you bitch. It doesn’t even matter, there’s no point in arguing over what you and I both know to be the cold hard facts.” He sighs, rolling his eyes underneath lacquered lashes. The latex puckers seductively as he spreads his legs wider, his thin thighs practically engulfing Mac’s lower torso; the skirt of the dress, unable to hold still any longer, accumulates just below his belly button, revealing the whole of a scarlet thong and Dennis’ painfully tucked groin. 

“ I’m not gonna let you fuck me, Mac. So don’t get your hopes up. I’m not gonna fuck you either-” His breath hitches in his throat, his dick half-chub, jammed far-up and between his ass cheeks. It’s bitter-sweet, the pressure travelling from his painfully stretched shaft to his penis head. “ D-den…” Mac mutters, concerned, his fingers ghosting over the space between Dennis’ legs where his manhood seems to have simply...disappeared. “ Are you-” 

“ DON’T TOUCH ME!” Dennis hisses, spittle travelling down his chin. He places a hand on the other side of Mac’s head, his thighs trembling slightly as he raises his protruding hips and moves his free-arm towards his rear, pulling back lacy panties ( with the support of a gaff ) to release his already-leaking dick. 

Mac watches him with wide-eyes, heart racing. “ I-” 

“ Touch me.” Dennis blurts out, hot and heavy. “ Do it now.” And as all good dogs do, Mac obliges, wrapping his large hand- his only available hand- around Dennis’ shaft. 

“ Dennis, Den-oh my god- Den, you look so good, Dennis…” He blurts out, clearly heartstruck from the opportunity to touch the man of his passion so intimately after what felt like eons. 

“ Stop talking.” His one-and-only, states, and Mac looks up from the extension of his quixotic fantasy to his foxish features as two, thin, rubber-clad, fingers are shoved cruelly past his lips, prodding and poking at the warm mucus-bound membrane of his mouth. 

Mac doesn’t have the time to be upset with Dennis’ callousness, for, these moments between them are rarities wrapped in silk. The pace of their shared-sensuality is dictated by Dennis and Dennis alone; it has always been about what Dennis wants and what Dennis needs. But, that doesn’t mean Mac can’t close his eyes and pretend like the feather-soft, effervescent, dictions of pleasure the other makes come from a place of unequivocal tenderness. He wants to pretend that Dennis’ chest rising-and-falling like ocean waves is for him alone: that Dennis’ heart beats only for him. It has never been a question of strength either. Dennis was unfit, he was a creature of glass and razor-cut porcelain and he’d fall all too easily at the slightest hint of a fist. Mac could hurt him for being so evil, so diabolical and self-pleasuring. But he doesn’t; he can’t, he is all too bound-up in the strings of Dennis’ influence, in his sharp claws and perfect teeth. 

And he loves him. Ever-so passionately and desperately, and- 

“ Mac, stop, stop, I don’t wanna cum yet.” Dennis groans, wrapping his hand around Mac’s wrist and forcing it to a curb. “ Enough…” His fingers fall, spit-slicked and moist, from the other’s mouth with an empty wet noise, and in a fit of disgust, Dennis rolls the glove off before throwing it over his shoulder with no care. 

“ Wait, Dennis...Dennis, I want to try something, can we? I promise I won’t disappoint you...” Mac, all too giddy to have his speech back, replies. 

Quirking a brow in response, Dennis can’t deny his intrigue, so he cocks his head to the side and gives Mac a nod of approval. “ ‘Aight.”

Despite having the use of only one hand, Mac is as energetic as ever, cocooning an arm around Dennis’ lithe waist and maneuvering him to lie back against the couch. Almost as if on instinct, Dennis’ legs clamp shut and Mac recoils in disappointment as he gently attempts to pry them apart, hoping to regain their previous position. “ Can’t you just relax for five seconds, dude? Geez.” 

Despite his defiant glare, Dennis’ thighs slowly seperate, left leg hanging loosely off the end of the couch. “...Thanks…” Mac mumbles, his lips pressed in a generous simper. 

Mac, sighs; he wishes he could look at Dennis like this forever, he wants to capture this moment on mental film, keeping it stored in the recesses of his mind like treasure. He uses his free hand to grab ahold of Dennis’ right ankle, gently drawing him forward before throwing that effortlessly long leg over his shoulder. When Dennis further secures his calf around Mac’s torso, Mac takes it as the insignia to move on. Dennis had approved, he craves this.

Jaw tightening, Mac nervously moves a finger - feather-light- over Dennis’ entrance; it’s so perfect, everything about him is so facilely perfect. Mac knows Dennis regularly lasers and bleaches his nether regions for himself, but Christ, it certainly turns Mac on imagining Dennis doing it for him. At least, once. 

“ Oh shit, lube- there’s no lube, I should go to my room and-”  
Dennis quickly shoots his hand forward, pressing a finger to Mac’s calloused lips. “ No. Forget the lube. You’re lucky I’m even letting you do this. Just use your spit, I’ll be fine.” 

It only took those words, nothing less or more, to urge Mac to continue. He hooks a finger on the inside of his cheek, lathering it in drivel, before releasing it with a pop and slowly circling Dennis’ sphincter. He watches the other intently, Dennis’ body twitching beautifully as Mac slides a digit inside of him. 

“ God dammit...God dammit, Mac, what kind of vanilla frou-frou shit is this? Just put another two in already or so God help me, I’ll-” Dennis, for once, is cut off mid-sentence as Mac forces another two fingers beside the first, his orifice undulating desperately to accommodate the sudden volume. “ Dennis…” Mac whines, the tips of his fingers slowly curling upwards, causing Dennis to cant his hips in response, hip bones like two mountains pointed towards the cracked ceiling. He was painfully thin and Mac almost felt bad agreeing to fuck him with three fingers on impact, no lube, no maturation. 

But it was worth it. It was certainly worth a prayer for every time Dennis raised an elongated hand to his mouth, covering his quivering lips and allowing his mewls to die on his palm. Mac worked up his speed, driving his fingers into Dennis, watching the other with starry eyes on the off-chance that he’d release the smallest of cries, anything, to let Mac know that there was a semblance of humanity left behind those bleached ribs. 

He got no such reward; Dennis was silent, painfully silent, and it hurt, although, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly as to why. Mac, also, doesn’t have the heart to ask why Dennis still hides from him. 

Dennis cums with thick, steady, ropes, patterned across his flat stomach in heavy stanzas. Standing from his seat, even his place on the couch lacked the usual warmth most things experienced long after something living has departed.

“ Ah, shit. I gotta run, totally forgot about my botox appointment at seven. Think you can take care of that monster yourself? Huh?” He winks. “ I’m sure you can, baby.”


End file.
